Why I left New York when Gatsby died

                  After Gatsby died everything in New York became a reminder of everything that he was. His giant house was the only view from my windows and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave because if I stayed I feared I would go insane. People constantly talked about him and trashed his name when truly they didn’t even know him. The hit and run and the affair were all pinned on him. They slandered his name and made him out to be a crook. I was the only one who knew the truth and it made me so mad. Every weekend remained silent with no parties going on next door. To any normal person this would be a dream come true if their crazy neighbor finally stopped making noise. But to me it broke my heart. All the hope and happiness in the air seemed to vanish with Gatsby’s death. It killed me every time I looked at the green light across the pond. To Gatsby it symbolized true hope and love but to me it only symbolized loneliness and betrayal. I didn’t exactly have anywhere to go even if I left the city, so decided to move back to my home town. At least there I wouldn’t be constantly reminded about the heartbreak I experienced over the summer. Some things are just to hard to bare and staying in New York was one of them.

What I was feeling when we went to the city

Talk about feeling uncomfortable. When we were sitting in that hot room in the city while Tom and Gatsby yelled at each other I just sat there quietly. This was not my fight to fight and I just felt out of place. Gatsby was trying to get Daisy to tell Tom that she never loved him but it didn’t seem to be working for him. I felt bad for him because all he wanted to do was live the life he had dreamed about for so long. Sitting there listening to all their arguing started to make me angry. Tom was calling Gatsby out on all the things he “lied” about. Telling him that he wasn’t an Oxford man and that his money was made illegally. When Gatsby finally told the truth about how he only went to oxford for a few months after the war I became even more impressed with him. I respected him on everything that he did even those things he chooses to keep quiet. I’m sure that even if he made his money illegally It was for a good cause. Looking back now, my respect for him may have blinded me from seeing his partially bad sides but even with them included Gatsby was still the greatest man I met that entire summer. When I saw him yell at Tom and lose his temper I wasn’t even scared or startled. I understood why he was so angry and I would have done the same thing.

What I was thinking when Gatsby took the fall for Daisy killing Myrtle

When I first saw Myrtle lying dead on the ground in the Valley of Ashes I was very confused. Wilson was screaming at Tom for being the one to hit her but I was with Tom the entire time and it is simply impossible for him to do it. The next thing I know Tom is yelling at Wilson to calm down and telling him that Gatsby was the one driving the car. That hit me like a wall. Gatsby, the man I so admired, hit a poor innocent women and then left her there to die. How could he do that. Everything I ever thought of him was ruined. When I confronted Gatsby and yelled at him for what he had done, he told me it was Daisy who was driving. He was taking the fall for the women he loved so dearly. I had just witnessed Daisy at Tom’s house acting like she didn’t even care for Gatsby. The poor man was taking the fall for Myrtle’s murder while Daisy ran and hid. The only thing going through my mind was that I had to tell Gatsby not to do this. He couldn’t possible think this is a good idea. He is risking his life and reputation for a lost cause. Unfortunately, I knew that no matter what I said he wouldn’t change his mind. His was so hopelessly in love with Daisy he would do anything for her and I couldn’t help him.